


Those Halcyon Days

by sharky_chan



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, Implied Sexual Content, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Pre-Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, Rough Sex, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharky_chan/pseuds/sharky_chan
Summary: As commencement at Magitek Academy approaches, Cid and Nero realize it’s never too late to keep having sex and doing science rather than talk about feelings.
Relationships: Cid nan Garlond/Nero tol Scaeva, Cid nan Garlond/Original Character(s), Nero tol Scaeva/Original Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	Those Halcyon Days

Students of Magitek Academy had a reputation for throwing parties, but Nero had missed them during the first half of his academic career. Being the youngest (or close enough to) student in the Academy’s history, he hadn’t come of age till his fourth year -- right when most of his classmates were leaving, and he was starting his second year of graduate school. 

This worked out, though, since before he reached his sixteenth summer, both the classes and his classmates had been boring. It was only around then that he even had an awareness of, and interest in, the possibilities of human interaction over science.

In the three years since, Nero had made up his share in parties, but this one was different. This one took place on the last day of classes, and Nero would be the youngest (yes, yes, or close enough to) student to receive a graduate degree from the Academy in the upcoming week. His day had come, and Nero intended to enjoy it to its fullest.

Numerous parties were happening across the capital, but the most noteworthy celebration was at an old-fashioned villa. It was built in the pre-Empire style, and except for its absurd size, it would have been more appropriately situated in the idyllic countryside than the austere capital. Yet even the traditional triclinium was overly large -- far larger than anything Nero had seen during his boyhood in the provinces -- and held more than one set of couches with plenty of room to spare. Despite this excess of space, the party had spilled out into the atrium as well as the gardens. 

Every graduating student (and the more ambitious lower classmates) had come to see and be seen. Nero leaned against the railing and took a sip of wine. Cheers rang out as performers breathed fire and did acrobatic tricks amid the garden’s pools and pergolas, and live music echoed through the halls enclosing the atrium. The tables, strewn with food and wine, showed no sign of running out. Whoever was throwing this party had spared no expense.

Some useless playboy, no doubt. There were no authority figures in sight, but the servants looked perfectly capable of keeping their mouths shut and their eyes averted as they served daddy’s pride and joy as if he were the actual master of the house. They’d had practice ignoring the debauchery happening around them – cleaning up the spilled wine and food while studiously ignoring the drunks playing in the impluvium and the couples (or triples) grinding on each other in the darker corners of the atrium.

That his classmates’ tastes in parties leaned toward the more lascivious was not a bad thing. As long as high-society boys didn’t speak, they were easy enough on the eyes, and Nero had no intention of leaving this party empty-handed. He looked over the selection as one might peruse a wine list, but unlike his keen memory for wines and vintages, Nero couldn’t keep track of which fops he’d bedded. They all started to blend together after a point. Swirling his glass, Nero watched the one face he could recall.

Quintus pointedly ignored Nero as he walked past. He was talking with another classmate – no doubt deeply engaged in the conversation as his hand drifted down the small of the man’s back. He almost managed to make it past Nero without acknowledging him, but at the last moment, Quintus cast a quick glance in Nero’s direction. Nero rewarded him with a knowing smile, which made Quintus scowl for a fraction of a moment before his face returned to a smiling mask for his handsome friend.

Quintus had no interest in Nero’s company tonight, and Nero felt the same. Quintus was passable in terms of looks –- a typically Garlean youth, dark-haired with a strong nose and severe jawline –- and he kept Nero moderately engaged in bed, but he was a backup plan at best. A sign that all had not gone as well as it could have.

A head of white hair flashed from within the atrium, and at once Nero went from bored predator to focused hunter. Here was a sign that all might go even better than expected. He downed the last of his wine and set the glass on the railing. Even as he stepped away, a servant darted in behind him to recover the glass – nimble house guardian keeping the place clean despite everyone’s best efforts.

Nero followed the crowd. As the shining hope of the Academy, Cid Garlond was inevitably the center of attention wherever he went. Whether it was his good looks, engaging personality, or illustrious pedigree, the other students never tired of basking in his presence. It was such blatant, indecorous behavior, Nero couldn’t help being embarrassed on their behalf. 

By the time he reached the triclinium to bask in Garlond’s glory himself, the crowd was already having a round of toasts.

Cid wore fresh clothes suited for the occasion, but as Nero pushed aside the other students to get closer, he smelled the faint but unmistakable whiffs of ceruleum. Whatever else Nero had to say about Garlond, there was no denying the man was a hard worker.

Nero brushed past Cid to reach for a fresh wine glass. Someone had just started to engage Cid in conversation, but as expected, when Nero’s arm jostled him, Cid turned. Whatever response was on Cid’s lips trailed off as he broke into a grin.

“Nero! You’re here too? I was wondering where you’d gotten off to when I didn’t see you in the lab. I thought we decided to finish this project before we received our ranks.”

“I finished my tests a while ago, Garlond,” Nero replied. He inspected each of the filled glasses before him before selecting the one that was the richest shade of red. He took a sip, then added, “I’m surprised you just now completed yours.”

Cid laughed, but his eyes glinted. “You know I always have to go beyond what’s expected of me – if only to keep you from catching up.” Nero gave him a withering look, but Cid laughed again, more jovially this time. He put a companionable hand on Nero’s shoulder. “I joke, I joke.” 

Cid was not kidding, of course –- not really –- and they both knew it. But they also both knew not to draw too much attention to their rivalry lest it sour their otherwise enjoyable friendship. “Let’s just have some fun, Nero. This is it, you know. After this, we have to be respectable and upstanding members of Garlean society.”

Nero raised an eyebrow. “So...finish up all our unrespectable and ignoble activities tonight?”

“...I suppose so.” Given how Cid’s eyes glanced over Nero, Nero suspected Cid was having similar thoughts to his own.

Unable to suppress a smug smile, Nero raised his glass to clink against Cid’s. From all around the room, envious, irritable eyes bored into him, including the comely young lady who’d been trying to talk to Cid before Nero cut in. Garlond didn’t party often, but when he did, he did so in the proudest of Garlean traditions. Chances of him bedding someone here tonight were good, and Nero had every intention of winning that competition -- if only to rub it in the faces of all his blue-blooded classmates.

It wasn’t hard to keep Cid’s attention once Nero had claimed it. Cid loved talking about magitek almost as much as he loved working with it, and although Cid took time to make small talk with every student who greeted him, Nero made sure the conversation inevitably returned to the latest in Academy projects and theories – topics the only Nero could follow and respond to in any meaningful way. If Cid recognized Nero’s game as they strolled through the gardens, he didn’t acknowledge it. Nero couldn’t decide if it was because Cid was socially dense or simply too drunk. Both were real possibilities. 

Cid was drinking hard even by Garlean standards, but it was no doubt difficult to show restraint when every other person wanted to bring you a glass and offer a toast. This was just a supposition, though. Nero had no personal experience being so beloved.

Cid was the great hero of their class and undoubtedly would become a hero of the Empire in time. Even the stupidest, ladder-climbing fop in their class knew this, and Cid was good-natured enough to humor their clumsy attempts at getting closer to him. Only Nero understood that Cid was never truly close to anyone. 

Garlond was all smiles, jokes, and kind remarks on the surface, but underneath that social facade and a genuine devotion to science, Cid’s thoughts and feelings were impenetrable. It was this dichotomy that had intrigued Nero since they first met as boys, and it was this dichotomy that allowed Nero to keep his otherwise gnawing jealousy of Cid at bay. As much as he wanted to be better than Cid, and more recognized than Cid, he also wanted to be the first to crack that barrier.

And in his own closed-off way, Cid did trust him. About an hour after Cid had arrived, he was leaning on Nero just to stay standing. Nero didn’t mind this at all.

“You’re clearly too sober,” Cid whispered into Nero’s chest.

Nero had not exactly been showing restraint, but it was all relative. He let his arm gently encircle Cid, pulling him closer. “I’m just not trying to outdo the fish, Garlond.”

“Gotta be more ambitious, Nero,” Cid chuckled. “I’ve gotta be the best. Better than the fish even.” For any other person it would have been an only-clever-by-drunk-person-standards joke, but as inebriated as Cid was, his words had an edge to them –- a sort of low-level desperation.

Nero knew all about Cid’s father, of course -- everyone in Garlemald did -- but Cid’s angst surrounding the situation had never made sense to Nero. His own father was nothing but an abusive drunk when he hadn’t been blessedly absent from Nero’s life. At least Cid’s father was accomplishing cutting edge research while being away. And in the place of dear old dad, Cid has none other than Gaius van Baelsar to mentor him. Because apparently every Garlean of note just couldn’t stay away from Cid Garlond and his bright future.

If Cid had been slightly less beautiful or brilliant, Nero would never have stopped despising him. But Cid was of sufficient beauty and brilliance that Nero had learned to forgive the man’s quirks. Nero was about to make a suggestion that they find a quiet room to continue their conversation, when someone bumped into him. 

“Bump” was an understatement –- it was closer to a full shoulder check. As Nero staggered, the woman from earlier laughingly apologized. Her hand curled through Cid’s arm as he swayed drunkenly in the chaos.

“Apologies, Nero!” The woman said, flashing an insincere smile in his direction. “I must have lost my footing! The acrobats are about to perform again, and Marcia and I were on our way to watch. Want to join us?”

Marcia gave Nero a knowing smirk as she stepped between him and Cid to offer Nero her hand. Nero glanced at Cid, who looked less and less brilliant with each passing moment.

“Sounds like fun!” He’d already taken the other woman’s hand. “Let’s go, Nero!”

Socially dense didn’t even begin to describe it.

After a long pause, Nero took Marcia’s hand, but gave her the nastiest look he could muster. She responded with a cheerful grin.

Nero had hoped that by joining for the show, he could do some damage control, but after the third routine, he could see it was a losing battle. Cid and the woman had already drifted to the outskirts of the crowd, and were openly kissing by the edge of a pergola. Nero managed to drift after them, but by the time he was close enough to even attempt regaining Cid’s attention, they’d settled on a bench where kisses turned into gropes. This whole time Marcia was a weight on Nero’s arm and thorn in his side, but at last her grip loosened as if she sensed victory.

When the other woman whispered something into Cid’s ear and his eyes got a bit hazy, Nero knew he’d well and truly lost. Cid nodded affirmation before kissing her deeply.

“Nero.” 

Cid looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. His voice was close to a purr, and despite the sinking feeling in Nero’s stomach, the way Cid said his name still sent a shiver down his spine. “Fausta and I are about to go look around upstairs...why don’t you and Marcia join us?”

Marcia’s fingers tightened into his arm, and Nero fully empathized with her horror. With Cid as the prize or no, he didn’t want that any more than she did. Nero never had any interest in women despite his best efforts, and logistics aside, he wasn’t good at sharing. Cid hadn’t meant the invitation as tossing some pity scraps Nero’s way, but as far as Nero was concerned, that’s what this proposition amounted to.

“I was just about to head home,” Nero murmured, doing his best to maintain some dignity in defeat. “I’m sure these lovely ladies will take wonderful care of you, though. Till next time, Garlond.”

When he turned to go, Marcia at last released him. She regarded him with something approaching fondness, but Nero didn’t look directly at her. He gave a polite bow then turned to make his escape. Nero strode as quickly as the situation allowed toward the main house. He could hear Cid’s initial protests but knew they’d end soon enough – Fausta and Marcia would see to that.

“Didn’t work out, huh, Scaeva?” A voice remarked as he passed into the atrium. “Guess Garlond is too good for a peasant like you after all.”

The hairs on Nero’s neck rose. Quintus leaned against the doorway, his previous companion notably absent.

“I can have Garlond any time,” Nero remarked with complete confidence. It was...mostly true –- truth adjacent at worst –- but Quintus’ expression suggested he didn’t believe a word of it. Nero quirked an eyebrow. “More times than you’ll get that cute boy toy at any rate. Where’d he get off to anyway? Too good for you?”

Quintus grabbed Nero by the collar and shoved him against the wall. The party-goers were either too drunk in general or too apathetic about Nero specifically to care, but Nero noticed a servant hovering just out of range. Fucking allowed by not fighting. Noted.

Quintus, on the other hand, had yet to notice. “You uppity peasant shit,” he hissed. “You always act like you’re better than us, but looks like you’re still second rate after all. Pretend all you like, but you’re scraps. Second-rate scraps.”

Those ridiculous words resonated far more deeply with Nero than they had any right to, especially coming from someone as mediocre as Quintus. Nero’s stomach boiled with fury, but he would be damned if he let this fool win even the smallest victory. 

And Nero would also be damned if he left here with nothing to show for it. All had not gone as well as it could have, but Nero refused to lose twice in a row. He put a hand around Quintus’ head to pull him in, and when Nero spoke, his mouth was so close to Quintus’ throat that his teeth touched skin.

“No need to get uncivilized, Quintus. Why don’t we make a deal? I let you fuck me for as long as you like, as roughly as you like, and all you have to do is keep that pretty little mouth shut. Think you can manage?”

Quintus’ expression was somewhere between hatred and lust. Nero realized he’d given the man far more credit than he deserved in terms of looks, but this expression, at least, was an appealing one. Best of all, Quintus was careful not to say another word as he dragged Nero toward the nearest empty bedroom.

***

Nero woke in his own apartment. Somehow he’d managed to make it home between the early hours of the morning when Quintus finally tired and well past noon when he was now opening his eyes. He couldn’t recall more details than that, though. His head was pounding, and his whole body ached. Quintus had taken full advantage of Nero’s offer, but Nero would have had it no other way. The physical pain provided a nice symmetry to his awful hangover.

By the time he managed to take a shower and retreat back into bed with a glass of water, he noticed a missed message on his tomestone.

_Dinner tonight at 1900 my place?_

Nero stared at the simple message for far longer than it deserved before tossing the tome aside. If Cid couldn’t deduce the answer to that question on his own, he was even denser than Nero realized. Several minutes passed. Nero sipped unhappily at his water. He couldn’t tell if the pounding was entirely in his head or if someone in the room above was moving out.

The tomestone flashed again.

_Please?_

Nero let his head lull back against the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. He was not in the mood to deal with Garlond right now, but he also liked it when the man asked him nicely for things.

With anyone else, he would have silenced his tome, but for Cid he picked it up and typed, _I’ll bring the wine._

His tome beeped moments later. _Please don’t…_

Nero smiled despite his headache. Well now he needed to pick out a nice bottle.

***

Nero did not live anywhere close to Cid’s place. Nero lived in a scholarship hall well off the main campus in a seedier part of the city. Official visitors and noteworthy guests never visited when they paraded around the Academy to admire its facilities.

Cid lived in a penthouse condominium just next to campus, therefore constituting “student housing” or something. It was opulent, but despite being the obviously better of the two locales, in practice, Cid visited Nero as frequently as Nero visited Cid. Nero could only guess that Cid was a little self-conscious about his luxuriant accommodations and wanted to draw as little attention as possible to them.

Public transit would have been faster, but Nero chose to walk, preferring to face the sun rather than a packed bus. His headache had somewhat subsided and the walk, at first painful, gradually helped to loosen his sore muscles. By the time he reached Cid’s place, he was in a substantially better mood.

The building attendant did not ask who he was visiting. He was escorted to the elevator, and they rode together in silence all the way to the top. Only after Nero knocked on Cid’s door, the elevator closing behind him, did Nero pull down his hood and take off his sunglasses.

After a few moments of shuffling, the door opened and revealed Cid’s face, slightly gaunt and with visible rings around his eyes, but looking far less hungover than he had any right to given last night. He smiled.

“Nero, come in. Please tell me you didn’t actually bring wine.”

“It’s a good vintage too,” Nero remarked as he pulled the bottle out of his bag. 

Cid’s face paled and he sighed with resignation. “I suppose it’ll go well with dinner.”

Nero set his bag by the couch. There was no triclinium here, but a large open living room next to a dining room with upright tables and chairs as was the modern style of Garlemald. The penthouse was recently cleaned. Not by Cid –- goodness no –- but Cid did have a servant who came by twice a week to make sure Cid hadn’t died from his complete lack of basic housekeeping skills.

“Your place looks nice. Did the smallfolk make dinner too?”

Cid looked affronted. He started pulling out platters kept warm in the oven. “Vibius only comes because Gaius insists. I am perfectly capable of making dinner without him.”

“And by ‘making dinner’ you mean taking out from a nice restaurant and putting it on a plate.”

“Exactly.”

Cid set a spread of meats and vegetables and cheeses on the table, and despite himself, Nero’s stomach growled. He’d done his best to nibble on a hunk of bread after waking up, but his appetite renewed at the sight of well-cooked fish and vegetables.

They ate in silence. Nero was too hungry to verbally spar, and if Cid intended to say something, he’d yet to formulate the words. Nero was in no hurry. He had some inkling of what Cid wanted to say, but the game for Nero was seeing if Cid could actually manage. When Cid moved to the couch to finish his glass of wine, Nero followed but kept his distance (easy enough to manage on the oversized couch).

On the walk over, Nero had decided he wouldn’t let Cid seduce him –- not tonight at least. Garlond had a tendency to very gently fuck Nero rather than actually apologize when he was being an egocentric asshole (a quality Nero wouldn’t judge anyone for, but he certainly could recognize it when he saw it). Any other time, Nero wouldn’t have minded some pleasant make-up sex, but it wasn’t enough tonight. 

With classes ended, they’d be graduating, getting their ranks, and starting their careers. All Nero wanted before their Academy days ended was for Cid to speak his actual thoughts for once. Cid bested Nero in every category that mattered. Through his heredity, he had access to all the prestige and glory Nero sought, while Nero’s clawing attempts to rise above his station amounted to little more than nothing. Second-rate scraps. Cid owed Nero at least this one victory. And if Cid couldn’t give Nero that, then he could suffer.

As expected, Cid sidled toward Nero and placed a hand on his thigh. Without breaking eye contact, Nero batted it away.

“Looking for something, Garlond?”

“I just thought,” Cid stammered, “I thought we were having a nice evening...”

“We are, Garlond. It’s a very nice evening. But I’m not sure what my leg has to do with it.”

Cid sighed, his expression distinctly more pained than usual. “Nero, please don’t be like this.”

“Like what?”

Cid pinched the bridge of his nose. “With everyone graduating soon, I’d just like us to be on good terms.”

“Are we not on good terms?”

Cid’s eyes flashed with irritation before he managed to tamp it down. “You tell me, Nero.”

Nero swirled the last of his wine and chose his words with care. “I’m not angry with you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” That was an outright lie. “As much as we’re intellectually and sexually compatible, we’re not seeing each other. You have no obligation to me.” Logically speaking, true, but Nero in no way believed it. “So while you undoubtedly made an error in judgment choosing anything over me, we all make mistakes.” That at least was a fact.

“Undoubtedly.” Cid cracked a smile.

Nero realized, in his desire to reveal nothing, he’d accidentally let Cid off the hook. But that was better than being caught in his own game. And Cid’s smile was pretty enough that Nero unconsciously brushed Cid’s cheek with the back of his hand. When Cid leaned into the touch, Nero couldn’t help a small smile of his own.

“It’s true I had every intention of seducing you last night,” Nero admitted as he tossed back the last of his glass. “But I’m not sentimental because it’s the end of classes. Whether the sex is before or after classes or graduation – it’s still sex. I’m sure it’ll be just as enjoyable after as before.”

That would have normally been Cid’s queue to lean in and ravish Nero (no need to be militant about his earlier decision to abstain), but Cid dropped his eyes with a small chuckle. He took Nero’s empty glass and headed into the kitchen.

“I was just thinking I’d love a cup of tea. Do you want one, Nero?”

“Not if you’re making it.” Nero hurried to the kitchen, snatching the kettle out of Cid’s hand before he could start the water.

“I’m guessing you’ll make me a cup too?”

“Not for your sake, Garlond. Tea leaves of this quality don’t deserve your treatment.”

Cid traced thoughtful circles along Nero’s back as Nero prepped the tea pot.

“What will you do when you get your rank, Nero?”

“Mmmm...Nero nan Scaeva has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? I suppose I’ll have to work hard enough to become Minister of Industry before blatant nepotism allows you to obtain the title.” He turned to regard Cid with a piercing look. “Just to be clear, I have every intent of being your superior from here on out, Garlond.”

Cid regarded the teacup in his hands and snorted. “Difficult when I have both blatant nepotism and unrivaled brilliance on my side.”

“Rivaled,” Nero corrected. “You may have brilliance, but it’s most definitely rivaled.”

“What about the military?”

Nero gave Cid a look. There was something off about their conversation, but Nero couldn’t place what. Perhaps just Cid being maudlin about graduation, or perhaps he was scheming. “I thought we both decided that wasn’t for us. Too much following orders, not enough science. What? Are you rethinking?”

“Of course not,” Cid chuckled. “I’m just wondering now that it’s actually here and not some distant future.”

“I grew up in the provinces, remember? Not really interested in going back.” The kettle was just about to boil so Nero pulled it off the stove. “My plan is to get a place at least as nice as this one, then buy up all the good tea before you can, so it doesn’t get ruined.”

As he poured the water into the teapot, Cid touched his back again. His hands were so gentle and affectionate – Nero knew with certainty Cid wanted something. He wanted something so badly, but even Nero, who knew Cid as well as anyone could, didn’t know what that was.

“But...you’ll still let me have a cup?” Cid asked.

Nero set aside the kettle and turned to face him. “Maybe. Only once you prove you are capable of making it without ruining it.”

“Then you’ll have to make it for me.”

Cid pulled Nero down into a deep kiss. It wasn’t an apology this time. It was something else. Something urgent and perhaps even a little desperate. There was always an edge of desperation to Cid these days, but Nero’s gut insisted this went beyond mere sentimentality. 

There was something Cid wasn’t saying. But when Cid unbuttoned Nero’s shirt to trace possessive kisses along his shoulders and down his chest, reclaiming the skin marked last night by Quintus, Nero found it harder and harder to worry about whats and whys.

***

Nero ignored the insistent knocking at his door. 

A short pause before a voice called out, “Nero, it’s me.”

Nero rolled his eyes before looking back at the academic paper he’d been reading. _Yes, Garlond. I know. That’s why I’m not answering._

The knocking resumed. “Nero, I know you’re in there. Please open up. We need to talk.”

Several pointed retorts come to mind, but Nero held his tongue. He very specifically did not want, or need, to talk to Garlond. Not now. Maybe not ever.

His relationship with Garlond had been founded on antagonism and competitiveness. Nero had resented Garlond before he’d even met him -- the precocious child of Midas nan Garlond, who was even now living up to his father’s genius. The one who just happened to be Nero’s age and thus stole all of the accolades due to Nero, the equally precocious, equally genius peasant who came from nothing and was still better than anything the gentry could produce. Anything except Cid.

Nero had at first loathed Garlond, then grudgingly respected him, and finally became quite fond of him. They worked well together, shared the same interests, and were in every respect each other’s equals. In the seven years of their acquaintance, they’d been enemies, friends, rivals, partners, and lovers. Until now, Nero had assumed he’d already experienced every emotion imaginable in the context of Garlond, but that proved incorrect.

For the first time, Nero knew what it felt like to be angry at Garlond. Truly angry.

The knocking and pleading eventually stopped, and for a pleasant moment, Nero wondered if Garlond had given up. But then he heard the sound of shuffling as Garlond settled onto the floor in front of Nero’s door like a stray puppy.

Nero stared at the paper before him, but the words, figures, and equations had become meaningless. Garlond had managed to ruin even that.

With a curse, Nero got up from his desk and opened the door. Cid was sitting with his back against the wall, and when he looked up, his eyes were filled with deep sorrow and remorse. A well of emotion rose in Nero, but he couldn’t tell if the sight of Garlond was making him more or less furious. 

“Nero, please. Can we please just talk?”

Nero stared down at him for a long moment without speaking, but at last he turned and walked back into his place without closing the door. Garlond would get no more of an invitation than that.

Nero’s place was tiny compared to Garlond’s. He had a combined kitchen and living area that was barely large enough to hold a table, a tiny wash closet, and what amounted to a bedroom (partitioned by a curtain) that contained his bed and desk. He’d spent more than he had to buy a chair for his desk, though it was, from a logistical perspective, utterly useless. The chair took up the entire space between the desk and the bed when he sat in it. But there was something so unsophisticated about working from his bed, Nero hadn’t thought twice about the money.

This, notably, was still the nicest room available to scholarship students. Nor did he share it with roommates, which was unheard of in this dormitory. Nero treated this place as a reminder of where he’d come from, and what he would never tolerate once he graduated.

But now he had graduated, and the world had opened up to him and his ambition. Soon he would have a penthouse like Garlond’s. Soon he would enter the upper echelons of Garlean society. Yet Garlond....

Nero pulled out one cup -- and only one -- to make himself some tea. “Be quick, Garlond. I’m busy.”

As Nero put on the kettle, Garlond closed the door to the hallway. After a moment of consideration, he leaned against it rather than stepping further into the room. At least he had some sense.

“You have every right to be angry with me.”

“Oh, I’m aware. And yes, I plan to exercise that right to its fullest.”

“I should have told you sooner.”

“Yes, you should have. I don’t know what part in particular you’re referring to, but yes to all of it.”

In the middle of commencement had not the right time for Nero to learn of Garlond’s plans. Garlond was already being appointed a Minister of Industry (nepotism and brilliance indeed), and he’d already accepted a station working with Gaius van Baelsar out in the provinces to bring Eorzea to heel. A noteworthy start to what would undoubtedly become an exceptional career in the study of magitek and aether.

Nero had said Garlond didn’t owe him anything, but even an egoist like Cid nan Garlond should have realized that was a lie. He owed Nero the truth at minimum, and Nero had deserved to hear it from Garlond himself -- not the bloody Magitek Academy Graduation Committee.

When Cid remained silent, Nero said, “When we were finishing up classes, we kept talking about starting a lab together. Continuing our research together. All those projects we were doing together on our own time...” He gave Garlond a venomous look. “Were you mocking me? Laughing at me for being a fool while you packed for Ala Mhigo?”

Garlond moved toward Nero, which Nero allowed, but when he raised a hand to touch Nero, that was too far. 

“Don’t,” Nero hissed. “Don’t you dare.”

Garlond’s hand trembled before he lowered it to his side. His fingers dug into the flesh of his palm until his knuckles turned white. 

“The only thing for me in the capital is you, Nero.” When Cid met Nero’s gaze, his blue eyes were not jovial or kind or witty or even apologetic. They held only pain. Pain and sorrow and a deep, haunting loneliness that made Nero ache despite his fury. “And I have never thought you a fool, Nero. A constant irritation? Utterly insufferable? Devoid of conscience? You can certainly be all of those things, but never a fool. 

“And if it had happened any other way, I would have stayed for you. If these past seven years have taught me anything, it’s that I hate this city. I’d rather be anywhere else in Garlemald -- or beyond Garlemald -- than here. But I swear, I would have stayed for you, Nero.” Cid’s face was tight -- such an open display of emotion took obvious physical effort. “There is no one else in the world I’d rather work with than you.”

“Except Baelsar, apparently.”

Cid caught his breath as if Nero had slapped him, but with visible effort, he composed himself. “It’s not just Gaius. The work I’ll be doing is related to my father’s research. We’ll be collaborating, Nero. It’s been 6 years since I’ve seen him -- since he bothered to visit me. I know you cut ties with your blood family years ago, but that’s not what I want. I don’t know why he’s changed, or what has changed, but I...I want to know my father again. This may be my only chance to bridge the gulf between us.”

The kettle whistled. Nero had meant to pull it off the burner before the water boiled, but it was too late now. The flavor would never be quite right again.

“Well that is a very familial and worthy cause, Garland,” Nero whispered. “And if that is what you wish for, then by all means, go. You don’t need my blessing.” Nero poured the water into his cup. “Admittedly the way you went about telling me was done with your usual lack of care and social grace, but I shouldn’t expect more. You don’t need to apologize for leaving me.”

The last sentence was such a blatant lie, so forced and stilted, even Cid surely could see through it.

It occurred to Nero that he’d finally gotten what he wanted. He’d achieved a level of intimacy where he and he alone was privy to Cid’s innermost thoughts. He’d assumed that as long as this were true, he could forgive Cid being the valedictorian, being made a Minister of Industry first, being the hero of the people while Nero’s own tale was mostly ignored or forgotten. As long as Cid trusted him, believed in him, confided in him -- belonged to him -- the rest wouldn’t matter.

Yet the bitter truth was that Cid might care for Nero, might trust Nero, might even admire Nero, but he did not belong to Nero. There was no level of intimacy that would make it so.

All at once the anger drained out of Nero, leaving only black amusement at his own folly and the utter ridiculousness of the situation. It was absurd how Cid could win even when he didn’t know they were competing.

Nero’s smile was humorless. He turned to brush stray strands of white hair out of Cid’s eyes. “You needn’t worry about me, my friend. I am more than capable of entertaining myself in your absence.”

Cid placed his hands on Nero’s shoulders. “You should come to Ala Mhigo with me. I’ve been asking around. It’s mostly military but there are some research positions available. With your accolades, it’ll be easy to get a position. And whatever Gaius and my father are working on is going to be ground-breaking. There’s no reason we can’t both be a part of it.”

“Oh, I suspect there are many reasons,” Nero retorted. “Outside the obvious Garlean political machinations you are so terrible at understanding, there’s the matter of my pride. You think I’d follow you like a lost puppy out past civilization? After I worked so hard to get away from the provinces? I like it here, Garlond. Everyone is wealthy and has nice things. I want money and nice things.”

Nero took a sip of his tea despite Cid’s grip on his shoulders. Not his best cup, but a damn bit finer than anything he’d get in Eorzea. “If it is absolutely required of me to work with others, I can tolerate you more than anyone else, but don’t flatter yourself about me following you.”

Cid’s jaw tightened. He managed to keep his composure, but his eyes dropped. “Nero...have you...have you thought about what would happen if you asked me to stay?”

Nero looked at Cid for a long moment before setting aside his teacup. He trailed his fingers down Cid’s cheek. “Oh yes, dear boy. I have.”

Cid’s hands slid up along Nero’s shoulders to cradle his neck. His eyes burned brightly, almost desperately. “Then ask.”

Nero burst out laughing. This was clearly not the response Cid expected, which made the situation even funnier.

Cid’s hands tightened just a little on Nero’s neck. “I’m serious, Nero.”

“I know you are.” Nero couldn’t resist leaning forward to brush his lips against Cid’s, further flustering him. “And you are either attempting to draw me into the most devious of mindgames, or are a naive simpleton with no understanding of what you’re saying.”

“Let’s assume the latter for the sake of argument,” Cid growled.

“Of course it’s the latter, Garlond. That’s why you’re so frustrating. You mean nothing by it. It’s an impulse coming from the depths of friendship. But use that marvelous brain of yours to _think_ just this once.

“You want to work with your father more than anything, but you are also having regrets about going without me -- which is quite sweet, by the way. But now what? Put the choice on me? And if I ask you to stay, but you choose not to, then you’ve played me the fool. Or you do stay and regret not leaving, and now you have someone to blame. No, Garlond. I can’t help you with this decision even if I wanted to. Which I don’t, by the by.”

Cid’s eyes narrowed. He stared at Nero for so long, Nero started to wonder if he were becoming angry, which would have been completely unfair and unreasonable but not unexpected. But then Cid grabbed Nero by the collar and kissed him roughly.

Nero welcomed it. He didn’t want to think about if things would have been different had he played Cid’s game. He’d meant what he said about it being rigged. But even rigged, that distant, dangling prize was tempting. 

Better to focus on the present -- to take in Cid’s scent and taste as deeply as he could before the other man’s absence. He was still angry with Garlond for ruining all his plans, but it was easier to forgive him when he was pawing at Nero’s clothes and pushing him toward the bedroom -- kissing him with a fierceness reserved solely for Nero.

If you asked any of the other students Cid had bedded over the years (and assuming they were willing to talk), they’d call Cid a considerate lover. Thoughtful and gentle. Sweet. Garlond could be those things with Nero, but when Cid got rough with him was the real thrill.

With one final biting kiss, Cid shoved Nero to the bed. He didn’t follow, instead moving to rummage through Nero’s desk. Nero sat up to see what he was doing, but soon Cid turned, rope in hand, and shoved him back down.

Nero smiled. It was a good day when Cid felt the urge to tie him down. He only did it when Nero was at his most charming -- his most infuriating, if you were to believe Garlond -- and Nero tried to focus on that rather than acknowledging that this might be their last night together -- if not forever than at least for years. That this might be Cid’s way of saying goodbye.

Cid pulled roughly at Nero’s clothes, which Nero assisted. Once Nero was undressed, Cid got to work, first tying down Nero’s arms then his legs with precise knots. Cid was unusually quiet, but his expression said everything Nero needed to know. Nero too was loath to break the mood with quips.

Cid didn’t bother to undress. He straddled Nero, kissing him deeply on the lips as if daring him to speak. Only when he was convinced that Nero would in fact keep his mouth shut did Cid let his hands and mouth wander over Nero’s body. He slowed now that Nero was pinned -- the initial demanding touches softened to something more gentle and deliberate as he played with Nero’s body.

The kisses that started on Nero’s neck and arms began to trail down his chest and stomach. Nero’s skin hummed beneath Cid’s tongue and teeth and hands. The touches were firm enough to get Nero to the edge but too gentle to help him over. 

He could do little more than moan and shake against the ropes when Cid’s teeth brush along his inner thigh. Cid’s touches softened even further, so light as to barely even be there, but a thrill of electricity trailed over Nero’s body in their wake. Nero gasped. 

“Garlond.”

What Nero wanted from Cid, he couldn’t say. To let him finally climax, or to make this moment last forever. Nero would never ask him to stay, but as long as he held out, Cid wouldn’t leave. Nero grit his teeth.

“Cid…”

At the sound of his name, Cid’s fingers dug into Nero’s hips, and he took Nero into his mouth. 

When Nero came, his whole body strained against the ropes. Cid continued to suck until the tension finally passed, and Nero could at last fall back to the bed. Yet with the ropes stretching him out, he could not quite relax. His muscles continued to tremble as Cid nuzzled and kissed him up his side and chest.

Nero had to crane his neck to meet Cid’s eyes. “Fuck me, Cid.”

Cid pulled himself further up the bed and leaned on an elbow to look down at Nero. “Fuck me, please?”

Nero squeezed his eyes shut and growled, “Fuck me now.”

Cid chuckled, touched Nero’s cheek with a tender hand. “Close enough.”

Cid moved to untie Nero’s legs. When the ropes came off, the sudden freedom -- the lack of strain on his legs -- was a pleasant sensation, but at the same time he missed the feeling of being pinned. He missed the tension. The hand restraints stayed.

As Nero readjusted, shifting his hips and knees to get the blood flowing, Cid took a moment to pull off his shirt and pants and retrieve a bottle of lube from one of the work table drawers.

Cid seemed content not to talk, and Nero did not feel the need to break the silence either as Cid adjusted a pillow beneath Nero’s hips. When Cid’s finger entered him, Nero focused on the feeling and tried to relax -- tried to enjoy the moment with no regard for what would come tomorrow. Cid continued to kiss and pet him as he added another finger then another. 

And when Cid adjusted Nero’s legs so he could slowly push into him, Nero groaned.

_Damn you, Garlond._

“Harder, Garlond,” Nero growled.

_Damn Gaius and damn your father and his research. We make a better team than you’ll ever be with him._

Cid was a fool. A bloody fool. 

Cid had started to push only a little faster and harder, so Nero met his eyes with a wild, vicious look of his own. He snarled, “Harder.”

Cid’s fingers dug into Nero’s skin and he thrust even harder -- even deeper. This was more like it. Nero let his head roll back with a moan. His eyes were still closed when Cid leaned down and bit his shoulder. 

The bite was as forceful and possessive as Nero could have asked for. Nero groaned again. He wanted Cid’s marks to never fade. He wanted to feel Cid three days from now -- a week from now -- a month or a year from now. For as long as it took before they next saw each other and could do it again.

_How dare you._

“N-Nero…” Garlond’s voice cracked as he came closer to climax.

_How dare you, Garlond. I hate you._

“I love you,” Nero gasped. The words came out before he could stop them. Too late did he bite his lip -- hard enough to cut skin -- to stop them. Those were the exact words Nero didn’t want to say and certainly didn’t mean. 

Cid was just as surprised as Nero. His eyes widened with a guilty look as though he’d heard something he shouldn’t have -- one of Nero’s filthy secrets -- but before he could say or do anything else, he came. His cries might have been an orgasm or a sob. Nero couldn’t even tell anymore as a fresh wave of pleasure washed over him. 

After a long aching moment, Cid slumped and buried his head into Nero’s chest.

Nero’s eyes slid shut. He focused on the feeling of his shaking muscles and the ragged sound of Cid’s breaths. When they’d started, Nero had assumed he’d still be angry after the sex, but now he only felt drained. Too tired to be embarrassed or upset. He just wanted to savor this moment for as long as it lasted.

“Stay, Garlond,” Nero said, but when he heard Cid’s breath catch, he clarified, “Stay the night...”

Cid said nothing, but his arms tightened around Nero in response. Despite the awkward angle the ropes put him in, Nero turned his neck to nuzzle the other man’s head.

_Stay as long as you’d like, Garlond_ , Nero thought as his jaw clenched. _But why are you such a fool?_

Nero wondered when he’d become so sentimental. This wouldn’t happen after Cid was gone, Nero assured himself. He’d feel better once Cid left and took with him this overwhelming emotional burden.

_That’s right, Cid. Go away, and leave me in peace._ Nero kissed the side of Cid’s head. The other man’s body was such a warm and comforting weight, and he could hear the Cid’s breaths even out as he started to fall asleep. Nero should have tried to wake him to get untied first, but Nero had no intention of asking anything of Cid. Because he had his pride. Because this too would be a reminder. 

As Nero also drifted asleep, his last thought was, _Thank you for staying..._

***

The next morning was a quiet one. The edge of Nero’s anger had faded, and he savored the way his hips and arms ached as he cooked a simple breakfast. Cid still looked sad, but less broken-hearted than he’d been last night. They didn’t exchange words, nor did they want or need to. Too much had been said already.

When Cid took his leave, he gave Nero one last kiss. It was long and deep as if Cid was savoring the taste. As if he too wanted to remember this moment.

“We’ll compare accomplishments when I get back to the capital,” Cid said as he brushed Nero’s cheek with a gentle hand. “I hope you’re ready to be resoundingly defeated when we do.”

Nero smiled. “Once you’re no longer underfoot and detracting from my work, I will wholly supersede anything you’ve seen or done up till now.”

Cid chuckled. Both of them fully intended to crush the other.

***

Not ten months later, the news reached the capital. It was hushed up as much as possible (quite a feat given the sheer level of destruction), but Nero held a high position within the scientific community to learn the details.

Nero looked out over the city from his penthouse windows. This place was everything he wanted. Situated in the heart of the capital’s residential district at the top of the highest tower, he could finally look down on all of the Garlean elite. 

He took a sip of tea.

Project Meteor in ruins, Bozja Citadel wiped off the map, Midas nan Garlond dead, and Cid nan Garlond defected.

It was safe to declare himself the winner of their informal competition, Nero decided. Yet as crushing a victory as it was, it felt hollow without Garlond here to witness it. Nero looked at his tea. It was an exceptional cup -- made with the finest of leaves and perfectly brewed. Everything in his life had come together. He was already where he wanted to be, and with Garlond out of the way, he could only go up from here.

Cid was gone. Cid wasn’t coming back. 

Nero’s jaw clenched. He set aside his cup and sprawled across the couch. With a sigh, he rubbed his temples to ease his sudden headache. How did Cid have such a knack for ruining everything?

It was unfashionable these days to believe in gods, especially given the eikon menace running loose in Eorzea, but if Nero hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Cid a nemesis -- sent by some wrathful deity to torment Nero personally.

Nero had everything he’d ever wanted, but Cid, while living on another continent, was somehow taking it from him. It was unforgivable. 

_I am going to destroy him_ , Nero decided as he stared up at the ceiling. _How dare he think he can escape me._

The military had never appealed to Nero before, but he’d performed well on the physical and combat training exams required of Magitek Academy students. Given Nero’s meteoric rise in the scientific world so soon after graduation, it would be trivial to enlist as an officer. It would mean working his way back up from the bottom, but that was nothing new for Nero. And Baelsar was in need of competent soldiers and scientists given the loss of both Midas and Cid nan Garlond along with their research.

Nero closed his eyes and smiled. He already looked forward to the fresh country air.


End file.
